


An Eye For An Eye

by flawedamythyst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-20
Updated: 2008-12-24
Packaged: 2018-10-16 01:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: "Jesus fucking Christ," said Dean. The puppy carefully pulled itself free of Sam's clothes, and tipped its head to one side, looking up at Dean with an expression he really wished didn't seem so familiar. "Sam?" he asked, incredulously.





	1. Chapter 1

Dean was still getting dressed when Sam came back from the morning coffee run clutching two cups and a paper bag that Dean really hoped had doughnuts in it.

Sam glanced around the room and rolled his eyes after he'd dumped breakfast on the desk. "Dean, I thought you wanted to get out of here early today?" he bitched. He'd been pissy ever since the prank that had conclusively won their latest war for Dean, and it seemed another night's sleep hadn't got him over it.

Dean just grinned, smugly. "I'll be ready, Scrappy Doo," he said. "Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Sam glared at him and disappeared into the bathroom without another word. Dean sniggered to himself and finished lacing up his boots, before moving on to stuffing his clothes back in his bag. It was the most annoying thing about being constantly on the road - always having to pack his stuff up every couple of days.

There was a sudden, muffled yell from the bathroom, then it was abruptly cut off. "Sam?!" he yelled through the door, but there was no answer. "Sammy," he shouted again, panic beginning to race through his veins, "You've got two seconds to answer before I come in there."

He waited maybe half a second, then kicked the door in, shattering the cheap lock easily. Sam wasn't inside, and Dean felt his heart leap to his mouth. "Sam?" he called again, but he could tell it wasn't going to get him an answer. His eyes took in the tiny, very empty room, and then dropped down to the floor. The clothes Sam had been wearing were laid out across the floor, socks still inside his shoes and shirts still inside each other as if Sam was still wearing them. Underneath the shirts, there was a small, moving lump. Dean moved the shirts aside with the toe of his boot, and from the inside of them crawled a small, brown puppy. It whined at him.

"Jesus fucking Christ," said Dean. The puppy carefully pulled itself free of Sam's clothes, and tipped its head to one side, looking up at Dean with an expression he really wished didn't seem so familiar. "Sam?" he asked, incredulously.

 

****

 

Half an hour later, and Dean was officially freaking out. The puppy was sitting on his bed, watching as he paced backwards and forwards, trying to talk himself into calling Bobby. He'd found nothing in the bathroom, nothing that explained how his brother could have just vanished, leaving all his clothes behind, or where the hell the puppy might have come from.

He glanced over at the puppy again, to see it chewing rather enthusiastically on the pillow. "For fuck's sake," he swore under his breath, and hit dial.

"This is going to sound nuts," he said the moment Bobby picked up.

Bobby gave a long-suffering sigh. "It always does when it comes from you boys," he grumbled.

"Is there," Dean stopped and cleared his throat. "Uh, is there any way Sam could have been turned into a dog?"

"A dog," repeated Bobby slowly.

Dean winced at the incredulous tone in his voice. "Look, he went into the bathroom, yelled, and when I got in there the only thing left was his clothes, and this puppy."

"A puppy," said Bobby, the disbelief in his voice growing. "And what makes you think it's Sam?"

"It was inside his clothes," said Dean. "Like, right inside, and all his clothes were like he'd just been wearing them. And, uh," he paused, and looked over at the puppy's stupidly big, brown eyes. "It kinda looks likes him, as well."

"It looks like him," said Bobby, and he didn't need to say that Dean was a moron for Dean to hear it in his voice.

"Look, you ever heard of anything like this or not?" demanded Dean, beginning to feel like a world class idiot.

Bobby sighed tiredly on the other end of the phone. "There was a hunter who ended up a dog," he admitted after a long moment.

Dean felt his eyes widen, and he turned back to stare at the puppy _Sam?_ again. "Yeah?"

"The fey turned him. Thought it would be funny - you know what their sense of humour is like." The fey? Shit, if the damned fairies were involved, then it could be almost impossible to break the spell. "There was a reason for it, though," continued Bobby, "They don't do things like that randomly. This guy used to eat dog food - something about saving money, and it all just being meat anyway. The fey decided that meant he was confused about his species, and secretly wanted to be a dog, or some such rubbish. So, if they have turned Sam into," Bobby took his turn clearing his throat, "a puppy, then there must be some reason behind it."

Oh shit, it was all Dean's fault. It'd seemed like the perfect punishment - Sam was always eating all his candy, so Dean had just emptied out a bag, then filled it with dog chocolate and left it on the bedside table. Not his fault Sam had eaten them, although Sam had certainly seen it that way, and now...now his brother was a dog.

"How'd this guy get turned back?" he asked Bobby frantically.

There was a very long silence from Bobby. "Dean...this hunter. He was called Kyle. Kyle Rumsfeld."

Horror churned up Dean's stomach, and sent bile rising up his throat. "Rumsfeld, like your old dog Rumsfeld? The one Meg killed?"

"Yeah," said Bobby, "The very same. I searched for a way to turn him back for years, but...Dean, if the fey have got to Sam, I don't think there's any way to get him back."

"There's always a way," growled Dean, and hung up on Bobby. He couldn't take his eyes off Sam, who was still happily chewing on Dean's pillow, making little growling sounds to himself.

Dean sat down on the bed next to him, and picked him up, looking long and hard into his eyes for any sign that Sam was in there. "Sammy?" he said, then felt like an idiot for talking to a dog. Sam whined again, and wiggled his body in Dean's hands as if he was trying to get away. "Oh no," Dean said to him, "You're staying right here till I figure this out." He squirmed again, then looked up at Dean with wide, dark, pleading eyes. Dean scowled at him. "We're gonna get you turned back," he promised.

Sam yipped slightly, then sprayed pee all down Dean's shirts. Dean yelled and dropped him back on the bed. "Oh, you little shit," he growled, and then paused. Had there been a noise from outside?

He pulled out his gun, and carefully moved over to the window. Maybe the fey were still hanging around, and Dean would be able to threaten them into turning Sam back. He leant back against the wall by the window for a moment, then sprang forward, pushing open the window and aiming his gun out of it in one smooth move.

Sam was crouching under the window, one fist shoved inside his mouth as his shoulders shook with silent laughter. Dean gaped at him for a moment, then glanced back at the bed, where the puppy was now sitting beside a large damp patch.

"You little rat bastard!" he gasped. Sam took one look at his face and started laughing for real.

"Jesus, Dean," he wheezed, "You should have seen the look on your face. It was priceless."

"I'm gonna kill you," Dean promised darkly. Sam just laughed louder, and stood up, walking round to the motel room door to come back into the room. Dean tucked his gun away again, and looked back at the puppy. Man, he was never going to hear the end of this, especially as he and Sam weren't the only ones who knew about it.

He pulled out his phone and hit redial. Bobby answered after only a couple of rings. "I'm gonna kill you," he told Bobby as soon as he picked up. Bobby started laughing.

"I can't believe you fell for it," he said between chuckles. "I mean, Jesus, Dean, you know the fey don't mess about with silly games."

"Yeah, well, how was I meant to know you'd lie to me? I trusted you," said Dean. "What was all that crap about Rumsfeld?"

Bobby snorted. "If you think I'd keep a hunter, dog or not, chained up in my yard, you clearly don't know me all that well, boy," he said.

Sam snagged the phone out of Dean's hand before he could reply. "Hey Bobby," he said, grinning in a way that put Dean's teeth on edge. "Yeah, it was awesome. I got some great pictures of his face when he saw the puppy, and when he was talking to you - I'll send them over to you later."

Dean growled. There were pictures? Oh, Christ, he really was never going to hear the end of this.

Sam hung up the phone, and smirked at Dean. "You should probably have a shower and get changed," he said, nodding at Dean's pee-stained shirts. Dean glared at him. "I'm gonna take the puppy back to the pet shop, then we need to get going."

Dean glared at him harder and stalked into the bathroom without another word. Now, how the hell was he going to pay Sam back for this?


	2. A Tooth For A Tooth

The plan was flawless. Sam had nearly wet himself with glee when he'd thought of it, and had then gone over every detail several times to make sure he'd though of everything. He'd even called Bobby and gone over it with him. Bobby had sounded nearly as excited as Sam was about it, already plotting his own twist if he got the chance.

The execution, however, presented several difficulties that Sam had not been expecting. He'd patiently waited a few days for Dean to let his guard down, and then a couple of weeks until they were in a motel with a suitable bathroom window and a nearby pet shop, but he hadn't factored in spending half an hour being lectured on how a puppy was a big commitment, and not something to be rushed into. Sam had done his best to reassure the pet shop owner that he understood what he was doing, and that he'd grown up around dogs (well, he'd spent a couple of summers at Bobby's, but that totally counted, right?) and that he was completely aware of his responsibilities towards the puppy.

She'd eventually let him take the puppy, but she'd been glaring at him as he left the shop. He was dreading taking the dog back in a couple of hours, after he'd had his fun with Dean.

That was, after he'd played the prank on Dean. He wasn't going to 'have his fun' the way Dean clearly was right now. Sam grimaced to himself, and petted the puppy, hoping like hell it would keep quiet. It seemed content enough to keep trying to kill the stick it had found earlier, so Sam glanced back in through the bathroom window, hoping like hell that Dean was done.

Dean was still in the shower. Still. And though the curtain was drawn across, Sam could see from his silhouette behind it that he was still in the same position as he had been when Sam had got back from the pet shop – one hand braced on the wall, the other one busy doing...something that Sam didn't want to think about too much, just below his waist. Sam took a deep breath and clenched his eyes shut for a second, trying to blot out the mental image of Dean's hand wrapped around his cock. The last thing he needed was to try and carry out this plan with a hard-on, after all.

Dean let out a long, low groan, audible even over the sound of falling water, and Sam let out a sigh, banging his head softly back against the wall. So much for that.

The puppy nudged its head against Sam's knee, and whined up at him. Sam crouched carefully down, hoping Dean hadn't heard. It seemed unlikely given what he was up to.

“Ssssh,” he whispered, “It's okay, little buddy, not much longer, then we can get this show on the road. After all, even Dean can't last much longer, right? I mean, I know he boasts about his stamina, but this is just getting ridiculous.”

He petted its head as he spoke, and the puppy licked at Sam's fingers, ignoring what he was saying. Sam made a face at the feel of dog drool on his hand, and picked the stick up again. “Slobber on this, not me,” he suggested.

The dog grabbed at the stick and started pulling on it enthusiastically. Sam kept hold of the other end, pulling back, while the puppy got more and more excited.

The water shut off, and Sam dropped his end of the stick. The puppy yipped in triumph, and settled down to chew on the stick again. Sam stood back up and glanced in through the window to see his brother step out of the shower and grab a towel. He shut his eyes again, and thought very hard about Bobby in speedos, then breathed out a sigh of relief when he heard Dean finally leave the bathroom.

“Okay,” he whispered to the puppy, “Let's do this.” The puppy gazed up at him, then tipped its head to one side.

 

****

 

 

Getting the puppy through the window and leaving it tied up in the bathtub was easier than he'd thought it would be. Climbing back out, grabbing the coffees he'd gotten earlier and hoping they weren't too cold after Dean's marathon monkey-spanking session, he entered the motel room again, this time through the door. Dean was standing shirtless by his bag and Sam scowled. He'd been hoping Dean would be fully clothed by the time he sorted out the puppy, but no such luck. Dean hadn't even bothered to dry off properly and all Sam wanted to do was lick the droplets of water off the back of his neck.

It was just typical of Dean to flaunt himself in front of Sam like that. Okay, so, he had no idea that Sam had spent the last ten years thinking less than platonic thoughts about him, but that was no excuse.

"Dean, I thought you wanted to get out of here early today?" Sam bitched. Dean just grinned back, as if he knew just how turned on his semi-naked body made Sam, and then tugged on a shirt.

"I'll be ready, Scrappy Doo," he said. "Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Sam glared at the reminder of the prank that had pre-empted this one – Dean tricking him into eating dog treats. No more delaying – time to put the final part of the plan into action and then sit back to watch the fall-out. He stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, then quickly started to take off his clothes. The puppy watched him from the bathtub, tongue hanging out as if he knew what was going on and thought the whole idea was hilarious.

Sam took off everything he'd been wearing and arranged it carefully on the floor as if he'd just disappeared from in the middle of it before putting on the spare set of clothes he'd stashed in the bathroom earlier. The puppy was getting bored, pawing at the sides of the bathtub, his claws scratching down the sides. Sam winced and hoped there wasn't any damage that they'd end up having to pay for, then carefully picked the puppy up.

“Okay,” he whispered, “you just stay put in here until Dean comes in, okay?” The puppy tipped its head to one side again. Sam grinned at it, loving the feeling of a plan so near completion, and carefully tucked it inside the pile of his clothes on the floor. He climbed out the window as fast as he could, before the puppy could find its way out, then let out a strangled yell, hoping he sounded like someone being turned into a dog.

The look on Dean's face when he saw the puppy was worth a thousand lectures about pet responsibility, and Sam took as many pictures as he could, biting his tongue hard to stop himself from laughing. The phone call to Bobby was even better, and Sam felt smug that his long-range planning had paid off. Especially when Bobby told Dean that his old dog had once been a hunter, and Dean believed him.

He did feel slightly bad when Dean hung up the phone and sat down on the bed, looking at the puppy with a desperate, almost distraught look. “Sammy?” he said, sounding lost, and Sam felt guilt rise up. Maybe it was time to end the joke.

The next moment, though, the puppy peed on Dean, and that was just too much, combined with Dean's look of horrified shock. Sam ducked back down, away from the window, and worked hard on trying to breath around his laughter.

It was too late, Dean had already heard him. "You little rat bastard!" he swore when he found Sam crouched beneath the window, and Sam just gave into his laughter.

 

****

 

Taking the puppy back after Dean had stormed off into the bathroom was tough. It whined at him the whole walk back to the pet shop, looking up at Sam with wide eyes, until Sam began to feel like some kind of ogre.

He crouched down next to it just outside the shop, and petted its head one last time. “I'm sorry, buddy,” he said. “There's just no place for you in our lives. You wouldn't like spending days at a time driving, and it's not like most motels are pet friendly.”

The puppy stared at him, then butted its head against his knee. Sam sighed, ruffled his hand in its fur again, and then stood up. Time to face the wrath of the pet shop owner.

The pet shop woman was surprisingly understanding – possibly because Sam blamed the whole thing on Dean. Well, on his completely unreasonable boyfriend, but he knew he meant Dean when he said that.

Leaving the puppy behind in the shop was a wrench, and Sam's good mood from pulling the prank had dissipated by the time he got back to the motel to find that Dean had packed the car up, checked them up, and was waiting impatiently to leave.

The second Sam was in the car, Dean started the engine and accelerated out of the parking lot. He flicked on the radio, and Metallica started blasting out. St. Anger, noted Sam. Dean was _really_ pissed. He settled back into the passenger seat, and wondered just how long he'd have to keep himself on high alert for Dean's revenge.


End file.
